World War Witches
by Elizabeth Maximilian Lestrad
Summary: June 6, 1944 - Operation Overlord would commence in what would become the largest counter offensive in history. However a freak event just days prior could change everything. Rated M for language and possible graphical content.
1. Crash Landing

**Disclaimer: **While attempting to remain as close to history as possible, to retain the intended plot changes in the way of troop deployments, etc have been made. I also wish to state that the real-life aces portrayed in this story are being portrayed in a manner that will fit with both the intended storyline and the Strike Witches universe. No disrespect towards these brave servicemen and women, is intended.

**Note: **As I was not happy with the pacing, and because the previous version leant itself to unexpected problems with the story, I have re-written the first two chapters.

**May 28th, 1944 – Brittania**

Moonlight lit a blackened sky as a Karlsland transport plane was escorted across the channel on its way to London, surrounded by the world renowned 501st Joint Fighter Wing. Leading the plane and its escort, Ace night witches Sanya Litvyak, of Orussia, and Heidemarie Schaufner of Karlsland. Despite knowing the route to be safe, tension filled the air as the witches remained vigilant. This was an important mission, escorting high profile witch commanders to a conference with Allied high command in London so they couldn't take any chances.

"Its quiet..." mumbled Sanya at a near whisper.

Hiedemarie glanced over at the Orussian then turned her gaze back on the full moon.

"Indeed" Schaufner replied after a few moments.

Silence fell again until something off to the north caught Sanya's attention.

"Hey check it out" came Hartmann over the radio. "The Northern Lights"

In the skies to the north a greenish light blazed radiantly from over the horizon. The group watched in awe of its beauty. As they flew the aura rose higher and higher into the sky.

There was a brief crackle over the radio and then a male voice. "Major, we're getting some strange interference with our equipment."

From the back of the pack, Sakamoto stopped and scanned the horizon with her magical eye. Nothing.

"I confirm" came Sanya's voice over Sakamoto's headset "I'm getting interference as well"

"And me" confirmed Hiedemarie.

"Eagle-1 to Major Sakamoto. Report" came a female voice over the radio. "Whats going on"

"The aura must be causing mild disturbance to radio waves" replied Sakamoto. "I dont think its anything to be concerned about Eagle-1"

"Then why is it getting closer?"

"WHAT?" exclaimed Sakamoto before spinning her gaze back to the north.

Sure enough, the aura wasn't getting taller, it was closer...and at incredible speed. There may not be time to avoid it, but Sakamoto would damn well try.

"All witches! Evasive action! NOW!"

But by the time the order was given, it was too late. The plane, its passengers, and the 501st Joint fighter wing were engulfed in blue light...

**May 28th, 1944 – Somewhere near the Russian Border, Finland**

The laughing had died down the moment his drink had fallen out of his hand onto the bar in front of him. Eino Juutilainnen glanced down at the spilled scotch and frowned. He had been in the middle of telling the joke where he was almost shot by friendly fire when a strong feeling of unease hit him tidal wave. The kind of feeling you get when you know somethings different, but you can't put your finger on it.

"You alright there, Eino?" his wingman asked in concern, noticing Eino's suddenly worried expression.

Eino tried to clear his head, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get the feeling to go away, and that worried him. Something was seriously wrong, and he hated not knowing what such a strong 'premonition' could mean.

"A storms coming." Eino murmured quietly, as the barman handed him another drink.

"Whats that?" asked his wingman curiously

Eino took a sip and stared off into space trying to figure out what this sensation he was feeling meant. "Nothing."

**Warrenton, Virginia**

Smoke rose from the wreckage of the Ju-52 which had unceremoniously grounded itself in a field. Inside the fallen aircraft, Oberstlieutenant Minna-Dietland Wilcke slowly opened her eyes as the pungent odor of leaking fuel and burnt electronics made its way slowly up her nose. The aircraft was dark and as she moved her feet she could hear the crinkling of broken glass. The back of her head ached and she reached a hand upward to find a moist spot in her hair. Lowering her hand back down she gazed at her fingers to find them covered in blood. It was then she remembered what happened...

Minna's eyes flew open and she sat upright in her seat. Her head swirled momentarily but she remained strong. Her eyes drifted around the cabin at the uniformed figures around her before resting on the door into the cockpit. It was then that her gaze fell upon a witch slightly older than herself with long black hair wearing a brown leather flight jacket and tight black leather pants.

"Vice Marschall Galland!" Minna gasped and she limped over to her commanding officer. Giving the witch a light shake, the Karlslander didn't respond causing a lump to form in Minna's throat. Filled with a sense of dread, Minna slowly raised her hand and pressed two fingers to the side of Gallands neck. She waited, then breathed a sigh of relief as she could feel a faint pulse. Adolphine Galland was alive. Yet it was clear Minna needed to get help fast.

Limping as quickly as she could, Minna made her way to the plane's hatch and attempted to open it. Nothing. Frowning she grabbed the latch tighter and gave the door a solid push but the door still refused to budge.

"Open curse you!" scowled Minna. Then taking several steps back she rammed the door with all her might but to no avail.

"Damnit!" she cursed, slamming a fist against the door in frustration. Glancing back at Galland and her other fellow passengers Minna knew she had to get help fast. Her eyes darted around the plane looking for a way to get the door open when suddenly her gaze fell upon the open doorway leading to the plane's cockpit.

'The radio!' Minna gasped and she made her way through the rows of seats towards the front of the plane. Entering the cockpit. Minna knew without even having to check for vital signs that both pilots were dead as her gazed at the blood-soaked canopy and the two limp bodies in the cockpit's seats. Remembering protocol, she reached for the plane's radio and dialed in the emergency frequency.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is Lieutenant Colonel Minna Wilcke of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing. We have crash landed and are in need of immediate assistance. Can anyone read me?"

Static.

Minna glanced at the radio's indicator lights. It was dead.

Deciding to take a different approach, Minna reached up to her comm unit and tried to contact the other witches. "Mio...Barkhorn...Major Heidemarie, anyone?! Do you copy?! All witches receiving this message, sound off!"

More static. Yet behind it all Minna could swear she heard voices. She tapped her earpiece when the comm unit crackled to life.

"This is Barkhorn, we're all here but," She paused, causing Minna to swallow. "We have a big problem."

"Whats wrong?" Minna asked, unable to hide the concern as her pulse began to race.

"Yoshika's critical. We can't wake her and we're not exactly all in good shape here."

"I'm trapped in the plane. The doors jammed. Can you open if from your side? We have injuries here as well."

"I'm on my way" replied Barkhorn.

Minna made her way back to the hatch and waited. Suddenly a groan came from one of her fellow passengers and she looked back towards the seats to see Hannah Rudel pulling herself painfully to her feet while holding her head."

"Holy shit my head hurts." groaned Rudel with a wince.

"Hanna. Thank god." cried Minna with relief.

"Commander Minna, how are the others?" the Stuka witch asked.

"A few injuries, but thankfully no fatalities. Barkhorns coming now to get us out."

After several moments she could hear Barkhorn calling from the other side. Suddenly a bright blue light lit up the interior of the plane as the door was torn effortlessly from its hinges and tossed aside to reveal the transformed Barkhorn. Behind her, stood Shirley and Hartmann.

Minna squinted as she climbed out of the hatch and into what appeared to be a crop field of some kind. Off in the east, the early morning sun was slowly creeping up over the horizon. Seconds later Rudel stumbled out of the plane to join them.

"Whats our status?"

"Besides us Major Sakamoto and Eila are the only ones who are mobile" stated Hartmann with concern. "Perrine's got a concussion and Luchinni's leg might be broken. Lynn and Miyafuji are both unconscious but breathing, the same goes for Sanya and Major Heidemarie."

Minna pointed inside "Galland, Von Bonin, and and the others are unconscious as well. Rudel just came to. Any ideas where we are?" asked Minna looking around.

"A farm of some kind." muttered Shirley with a shrug, then pointing to a road a short distance away from the crash, "There's a farmhouse on the other side of that road a short distance off. We can probably get help there."

Hartmann and Minna followed the Liberion witch's finger until they spotted the small ricketty blue farmhouse off in the distance.

"I'll stay with Eila and Major Sakamoto." offered Rudel. "In case anything should happen."

"Good idea, thank you."

After informing the others of their plan Minna, Hartmann, Barkhorn, and Shirley set off across the fields towards the farmhouse hoping that they could get help there. The four walked for about half an hour before they actually began to get close to their destination During that time, Hartmann broke a record, having only begun to complain that she was tired and when were they going to get there after fifteen minutes instead of the usual ten.

"I can't go on anymore!" groaned Hartmann "I think I'm dying, Trude!"

"Knock if off Hartmann! Your not dying. As a soldier of Karlsland you should be ashamed of yourself. You're acting disgraceful."

Shirley reached a comforting hand out and patted Hartmann on the back with an apologetic smile as Hartmann let out another moan. "We're almost their Hartmann, look."

**St. Trond Airfield, Belgium**

"Come on you guys, quit acting like I went and died." Von Bonin pleaded. "I've known Wolf for a long time, he'll make a great replacement as squadron leader."

"It's just going to be weird not having you around." replied Gerhard Barkhorn of the JG53. Barkhorn wasn't one for being gloomy, but this situation was different. Von Bonin had been their commanding officer since they were cadets, and now the ace was being transferred back to Berlin by high command. "Especially to keep this one in line."

Von Bonin glance over at the young Hartmann standing at Barkhorn's side and smiled mischieviously. "I thought that was your job, Gerd."

"Ha ha, very funny." scowled Barkhorn sarcastically before letting out a defeated sigh. "I just don't trust outsiders. We had a great group dynamic going and now everything going to change."

Von Bonin gave a sad smile and placed a hand on both Hartmann and Barkhorns shoulders. "It was good times. Still, give the new guy a chance, will you? For my sake? I don't want to hear that he sent you two to Africa like that ass-hat Marseilles.

"You can count on it." replied Barkhorn with a salute.

**Whittaker's Farm – Somewhere outside Warrenton, Virginia**

After another fifteen minutes of walking, Charlotte Yeager breathed a sigh of relief as they climed the small wooden steps onto the farmhouses' front porch, stopping in front of the white front door. Glancing at the other witches, Minna reached up and gave a soft knock on the door. Seconds later she heard voices from within the house and the door opened to reveal a young woman in a long soft-pink dress with wavy shoulderlength hair.

"Can I help you?" she asked in slight confusion at the girl's state of dress. Her eyes slowly turned downward and then widened with a gasp.

"Good heavens!" she cried, her face going red. "What on earth happened to you?! Come inside right now."

"Uh...thank you." stated Minna with mild confusion and the four girls stepped inside the cozy farmhouse.

"Our plane crashed and we have injured. Is there anyone we can call for help?"

The woman looked aghast. "W-why, there's only Doc Anderson and he's in town...about an hour away." Glancing over her shoulder she called into the room behind her "George?! Get Doc Anderson on the phone, there's been a plane crash!"

"Thank you." Minna gave a weary smile. A surprised gasp caused Minna to turn. Hartmann was sniffing the air, an excited look on her face.

"Hartmann, your being rude." berated Barkhorn, her face flush with embarrassment.

"Were you three hungry?"

"I'm famished!" replied Hartmann, earning herself a smack to the back of the head from Barkhorn.

"Your hospitality is appreciated, but I have to see to the others in my unit." apologized Minna diplomatically.

"Your unit?" The woman seemed confused and then even more so when she realized they were all in various military uniforms. "You mean like Girl Scouts?"

"Girl Scouts!?" gasped Shirley, "With these puppies?" she stated, pointing to her more-than-fully figured torso.

Minna was about to respond when a noise from the kitchen at the end of the entryway caused her to turn. A middle-aged man entered the hallway. "I called the doc, he's on his..."

The man took one look at Minna, Hartmann, and Barkhorn and went silent. He frowned, then his eyes narrowed. Reaching back through the doorway he leveled a 12-gauge shotgun at the three girls. Shirley yelped and jumped backwards bringing her hands up.

"Woah woah woah!" shouted Shirley.

"Hey, what the fuck's the big idea!" shouted Barkhorn, clearly outraged.

"George for heaven's sake" pleaded the man's wife, "put that gun down!"

"Get back, those are German uniforms you girls are wearing. Arn't they!" The man shouted the last part, clearly incensed for a reason none of the Karlslanders could understand.

"I have no idea what or who your talking about." offered Minna as calmly as possible. "We're witches from Karlsland."

"Sounds awfully German to me..." snarled the farmer while his wife looked back and forth in horror. "Now your too young and too...female...to be soldiers. Is your 'precious Fuhrer' using kids as spies now? Is that it?!"

"George! Calm down..." begged his wife frantically.

"Look, we told you already! We have no idea what the hell your talking about" shouted Barkhorn, taking a step forward.

A loud bang erupted as the gun went off accidentally in the startled man's hands. His wife screamed as a bright light filled the hallway. She turned back slowly, expecting the young brunette to be blown to the floor but she could never in a million years have expected to see what she did.

A calming blue light filled the hallway, light that was emanating from the young brown-haired German. In front of the girl a glowing circle filled with intricate designs held the fired slugs in mid-air just a foot away from the girl's face. But that wasn't all. Looking closer, the brunette had two large dog-ears sticking out from her hair, and a tail!

Reaching up a hand, she crossed herself and began muttering a hail mary. Her husband was equally shocked, and appeared frozen in place with abject horror.

"I've...had...just...about...enough of this!" Barkhorn snarled, stalking forward and grabbing the shotgun by the barrel so hard it was crimped shut. Yanking the gun from the mans hand she tossed it down the hall.

The woman screamed "Don't hurt us!"

"That's enough captain, your scaring them." ordered Minna, "I'm sure your husband didn't mean for things to escalate the way they did. We have no intention of harming either of you. We just need help for our friends. Once I see to them, I'll answer any questions you have if I can.

Minna's demeanor seemed to calm the woman down considerably and snap the husband out of his shock.

"What the devil are you?" he muttered at Barkhorn.

"We're witches. That's what we are." she replied before turning away and walking back over to Minna.

**Plane Crash, Outsite Warrenton, Virginia**

It felt like an hour had passed since Minna and the others had left for the farmhouse. During that time Sakamoto, with Eila's help, had finished getting the last of the Junker's passengers out of the fallen aircraft. Major General Galland was still unconscious however, as was Miyafuji. The other survivors however were in slightly better shape. Frederike Porche and Hanna Rudel had awoken with only superficial injuries, as did Lynnette. Von Bonin was awake, though she suffered from a broken right arm, and Wing Commander Rall was lying under a tree in pain having suffered intense trauma to her already injured back. Ursula was the only one of the planes passengers to make it out without incident...well, except for a cracked lens on her glasses.

"Miyafuji, wake up. Please wake up!" pleaded Lynnette, kneeling next to her friend.

A noise off in the distance caused Sakamoto to turn. "Everyone quiet!"

The noise died immediately and those who could moved to find cover.

As the sound approached, Sakamoto recognized it as a single vehicle. A small truck by the sound of the engine.

"Sounds like Minna found help!" she stated with relief, standing back up.

"Thank god" breathed Porsche with a smile.

Seconds later a blue Ford pickup truck came into view with Hartmann, Barhorn and Shirley riding in the bed of the truck and Minna in the front passenger's seat next to a young couple. Stopping between the fallen plane and the row of trees the young man and Minna got out of the truck and proceeded over to Sakamoto.

"I found help. A doctor is on his way but we need to get all of you to this man's farmhouse. It's not far.

"He's certainly giving me the death glare." muttered Sakamoto unfazed, though curious. With the exception of the incident with General Maloney, Sakamoto could not once recall hearing stories about anyone treating the witches so poorly.

Minna glanced back. "It's a long story, but I promised him answers if he helped us. That should also help us figure out whats going on. And why they seemed so shocked to see witches."

**Southwick House, England**

An air of tension filled the room as the allied commanders pondered the operation laid out before them by Supreme Commander Dwight D Eisenhower.

"I've said it once, and I'll say it again" stated General Bradley. "We've looked at it from every possible angle. The only way we can ensure success on the beaches is to drop the paratroopers right behind German lines so their breathing down the Kraut's necks."

"Do that, and they'll be torn to shreds." countered Air Marshal Trafford Leigh-Mallory of the Brittish RAF. "We could be looking at losses in the 70s, maybe bloody near 80 percent!"

"Eisenhower took a deep drag of his cigarette and sighed heavily, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. All this bickering was doing was giving him a headache.

"That's enough" Ike stated suddenly, sounding tired. "This bickering is getting us no where. As your commanding officer I need facts, not estimates. And the fact of this matter is that General Bradley is going to need all the help he can get to make sure those men he's sending into battle can make it off the beaches. We've got nine days gentlemen."

"Well, word from the weather boys say things might be more than a bit dicey" stated Read Admiral Ramsey with more than a little concern. "That would complicate both the air drop, and the landing if things get out of control."

"Good God man!" cried General Montgomery with exasperation, "If we delay this operation any more, the men will go stark raving mad!"

"I've heard the reports Ramsey" stated Eisenhower calmly, "But I am still committed to the sixth. As such I need each of you to go over your sections of the operation with a fine tooth comb looking at every possible eventuality. We'll reconvene in three days."

**Carentan, France**

To say Feldmarschall Rommel was furious would not have been far from the truth as the Desert Fox marched down the front steps of his command center and out into the streets of Carentan where his second, Captain Karl Deiter, was waiting for him with Rommel's staff car.

"Whats wrong?" Deiter asked curiously.

"The Reichmarschall is ordering all out units to cover the port towns. What does that fool think the allies are going to do? Ride into port on a ferry?! No! When they invade, they'll do it on the beaches."

"But he wouldn't listen."

"Ever since Africa, they've been nothing but fools."

"Just don't you go doing something stupid. The Fatherland can ill afford to loose its hero.

Rommel paused just as he was about to reach for the door of his car and turned to look at Deiter before getting in.

**The Aircraft Carrier Akagi, Somewhere near Midway.**

Saburo Sakai grimaced as he rubbed his bad eye. On this particular day, it hurt more than normal. Mostly because he was expected to sortie that afternoon the Japanese ace had thus had refused to take pain medication over concerns that it would effect his ability to fly.

Despite his ever rising kill count in the pacific theater, Saburo could not help but be worried about the ever changing dynamic in the Pacific. No matter how much he tried to ignore his 'traitorous' thoughts, Saburo knew deep down that the attack on Pearl Harbor had been a terrible mistake and feared that they would all pay dearly for the Emperor's bloodlust.

For now, the one-eyed ace had no other choice but to fight on and endure and hope that come-what-may he would still have a home to return to when the war was finally over.

Suddenly the shrill sound of a klaxon caught Sakai's attention and he climbed out of his bunk and grabbed his flight jacket. Taking a few meditative breaths he headed for the hangar where his Zero was waiting to engage the enemy once more.

**Warrenton, Virginia - Crash Site**

It seemed like Minna and the others had been gone longer than they actually had when the sound of a truck approaching caused Sakamoto to jump to her feet. "Someone's coming!" she hissed, causing Eila and Rudel to jog to cover. Moments later, a faded blue Ford pickup came into view and Sakamoto breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Minna in the passenger's seat. Approaching the crashed Junker, the pickup slowed to a stop and Minna, Barkhorn, and Shirley exited the vehicle to retrieve Sakamoto and the others.

"Whose your friend?" Sakamoto asked as she came out of hiding.

"Mr. Whittaker owns a farm not to far from here. He has a doctor coming but we need to get everyone to the house.

"I see."

Sakamoto turned to Whittaker and bowed politely. "Thank you for your assistance."

George Whittaker did not reply but followed Shirley over to where Rudel and Eila were standing to help load the injured witches onto the truck. After he had gone, Sakamoto turned Minna and asked curiously. "Is it just me, or did that man give me the cold shoulder?"

"I think he did." remarked Minna. "Don't mind him, it's a long story."

"By the way," added Sakamoto "Where's Hartmann?"

"She's back at the house helping Mr. Whittaker's wife prepare for the doctor's arrival."

"Very thoughtful of her." stated Sakamoto with mild surprise.

Ten minutes later the last of the witches were helped into the back of Whittaker's truck and they headed back to the farmhouse. Upon their return Perrine, and Lucchini were all taken into the kitchen where Hartmann helped sling and cast their comrade's injuries while they waited for Miyafuji to wake up. Meanwhile, Barkhorn and George Whittaker took the unconscious witches upstairs, dividing them between two empty bedrooms. Sanya, who had woken up on the way back to the house was in the living room cuddling on the couch with Eila, much to the chagrin of George Whittaker, while nursing fractured shoulder. Once the preparations were completed, Minna and the others reconvened in the living room while they awaited Doc Anderson's arrival.

**Whittaker's Farm**

The living room was cozier than it was probably intended to be as Minna, Shirley, Barkhorn, Hartmann, Sakamoto, and Eila joined Mr and Mrs Whittaker for tea as they awaited the arrival of the doctor. As they sat in silence Eila was trying to assess the situation with her tarot cards but seemed to be having trouble.

After a few more moments of silence Minna took one last sip of her tea and set the cup down on the Whittaker's coffee table.

"First, allow me to introduce myself and my companions." she began. "I am Wing Commander Minna-Dietlande Wilcke of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing code named the Strike Witches. To my left are Captains Charlotte Yeager and Gertrude Barkhorn, Lieutenant Erica Hartmann, Group Captain Hanna Rudel, Lieutenant Eila Ilmatar Juutilainen is over there with her Tarot cards, and sitting next to her is Flying Officer Alexsandra Vladimirovna Litvyak. But she prefers being called Sanya. We were traveling to London for a conference when our plane crashed."

"Your a long ways from London." murmured George Whittaker. "Your in America."

Minna replied with a blank stare. "I'm not familiar with that country."

The couple's eyes widened in shock. "You know? The United States?" offered George Whittaker, sounding a bit incredulous.

"That's where I'm from! The good ol' US of L!" stated Shirley with excitement?

"USA" corrected Whittaker coolly.

Shirley looked confused, and she wasn't the only one. In the corner Eila flipped over another one of her tarot cards and let out an audible gasp causing Sanya to jump.

"Whats wrong Eila?" asked Sakamoto before Minna could ask the same.

Eila did not reply, instead she stared at the tarot card in front of her for several moments before carefully picking it up and holding it out for the witches to see. In her hand was the 'World card', which was well known for implying long journeys.

"Toto," she began, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."


	2. The Man Named Hoover

**May 28th, 1944 – George Whittaker's Farm – Outside Warrenton, Virginia**

"I'm just telling you what I read." huffed Eila defensively.

Ever since she stated her theory that they had somehow managed to travel to a world parallel to their own, Sakamoto and Barkhorn had been arguing with her about the absurdity of her theory. Meanwhile Minna, though developing a headache said nothing. Hartmann, seemingly oblivious to the internal strife was staring out the window while Shirley had gone into the kitchen to sit with Lucchini

As Minna let out another sigh, she felt someone sit down next to her. Glancing over to her left, it was George Whittaker's wife. "Minna was it?"

"That's right" smiled Minna tiredly.

"I don't think I ever introduced myself." the woman offered casually. "I'm Anne"

"Pleasure to meet you" replied Minna.

"You're pretty young for a military officer." Anne offered.

"We're witches, our magic starts to fade after we turn twenty or so, so we were all recruited young." Minna replied. "To fight the Neuroi."

"Neuroi?"

"Aliens. They razed our homelands to the ground, killed hundreds of thousands of people. The surviving nations capable of fighting back joined together to fight back. Thus, the Joint Fighter Wing program was born. We're finally gaining ground, but sometimes even I can't help but think the war will never end. We were on our way to London to meet with Prime Minister Churchill and the rest of Allied high command... and now this."

Minna sighed, the huge uncertainty of their predicament weighing heavily on her shoulders.

"I know how you feel." replied Anne Whittaker, placing a hand on Minna's shoulder. "We're in the middle of a war ourselves, much like yours as a matter of fact. I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way as you do. But you can't loose hope."

Minna looked up into Anne's clear blue eyes and smiled. "Your right..."

Suddenly the sound of a car door slamming alerted the witches to the arrival of the Whittaker's doctor, a elderly man by the name of Doc Anderson.

Anne Whittaker stood and hurried into the hall to get the door. Minna stood up as well and followed.

"Where are the patients?" Anderson asked, glancing from Anne to Minna, giving the young Karlslander a look of surprise.

"I had to split them up." Anne began, "A few of the girls with minor injuries are in the kitchen. I did what I could for them. The unconscious ones are upstairs, follow me."

Minna and Anderson followed Anne Whittaker silently up the small creaky staircase to the second floor. Anne stopped at the top of the stairs and pointed. "There's two in this room and two in the room at the end of the hall."

"I see. Well, let me take a look at them and I'll see what I can do. Why don't you all wait downstairs.

**Department of War – Washington DC.**

A young army captain ignored the protests of his commanding officer's secretary as he entered the small office of Colonel Maitlen, head of the War Department's communications branch.

"What is it Braddock?" growled Maitlen, setting down an intelligence briefing labeled 'top secret'.

"Sir, I just got a call from one of our radar outposts that a military plane was detected on a...unconventional flightpath...outside Washington DC, sir."

"English please."

"Well, it crashed sir?"

"How many dead?" asked Colonel Maitlen.

"We don't know sir. It wasn't one of ours." replied Braddock.

"What do you mean it wasn't ours? You're a communications officer aren't you?"

"Its flightpath was coming from the Atlantic sir. There's rumors it might be a German spyplane."

Maitlen frowned, clearly unimpressed. "I don't deal with 'rumors'. Find out!"

"Shouldn't we inform the General?" asked Braddock.

"Not until we have something to report."

**Federal Bureau of Investigation – Washington DC.**

"Your going to want to see this, sir." stated Clyde Thomson as he handed his long-time friend and boss J. Edgar Hoover a report from their 'unofficial sources'.

"Did you confirm this?" asked Hoover glancing over the report.

"I did, the army is moving to send people to investigate the site."

"Well then," stated Hoover "Have my car brought around front. We can't let the army get the glory now can we?"

Clyde smiled despite himself. "No sir."

**George Whittaker's Farm – Outside Warrenton, Virginia**

Doc Anderson was still working when Minna brought him up a sandwich for Lunch, courtesy of Anne Whittaker. By now, only Von Bonin, and Lynnette were awake after Anderson had administered smelling salts. Porche had awoken as well, though found out rather painfully that she had dislocated her right shoulder during the crash. Galland was decidedly stable, though still fast asleep. A short time later Yoshika had awoken but was still too exhaused to use any of her healing magic. At this point, Anderson had been working for over five and a half hours straight, as he went from one witch to the next, and was currently undergoing surgery on Gundula Rall's injured back.

'Thank goodness she's sedated.' thought Minna, cringing at the garbage bin filled with bloodied gauze and bandages.

"I brought you some food doctor." she stated quietly, so as not to surprise the old man.

"Set it over on the dresser. I'm almost finished here." he replied, sitting upright and reaching into his bag for stitching and a needle.

Minna did as she was told and turned to leave. "I don't know if I can thank you enough for this.' Minna stated.

"No need to thank me," replied Anderson as he began stitching Rall back up, "part of working a clinic is a willingness to do good without need of reward. Besides, by the sound of things I might get to see something interesting. I hear that young girl you got is really something."

"That she is." smiled Minna warmly, "You could say Miyafuji is the heart of the 501st."

Anderson chuckled to himself as Minna headed back downstairs to eat. Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, Sakamoto entered the hallway.

"Minna, we got trouble!"

**Outside the Whittaker's House**

Hoover and Tolson exited their car as the rest of the agents pulled in behind them.

"Tire tracks lead here." stated Tolson, nodding at the house.

"Well then, what are we standing around here for?!"

Hoover stalked across the drive and up onto the front porch of the Whittaker's house and rang the doorbell. Behind him, four senior FBI agents, two with thomsons, two with shotguns.

Just as Hoover was about to give the order to have the door kicked in, Anne Whittaker opened the door.

"Can I help you?" she asked, eying the armed agents warrily.

"Ma'am, my name is J. Edgar Hoover, director of the FBI. Do you know anything about that plane thats crashed in your fields?"

Anne shifted uncomfortably and was about to reply when Minna came to the door.

"The plane's mine." she stated.

Hoover's eyes shifted to the young red-head. Not only were the reports on the plane being a Junker accurate, but this girl was wearing a German officer's uniform.

"And who might you be?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Minna-Dietland Wilcke of the Karlsland Luftwaffe." she replied, stiffening.

Hoover raised a hand and within seconds the agents had lifted and readied their weapons, training them on Minna.

"Miss, I don't know what your story is, but that plane you have is an enemy aircraft. I'm going to have to take you and anyone with you in for questioning."

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible. We have injured that are currently undergoing treatment." replied Minna firmly.

Hoover raised his eyebrows. Rarely had he come across someone with the backbone to stand against him, let alone a girl clearly in her late teens to early twenties. He was, at the very least, mildly impressed. "Very well, but my agents stay here. Anyone who can move is to come with us."

"J, the army's here." said Clyde suddenly, pointing to the drab green jeep and troop transport kicking up dust as they closed ominously in on the farm.

Hoover cursed under his breath and immediately regretted checking out the plane before investigating the house.

"Clyde, you collect Miss Wilcke and her friends and get them into the car. I'll deal with the army."

Tolson and the other agents followed Minna inside, where they proceeded to handcuff Minna, Barhorn, Hartmann, Eila, Sanya, Von Bonin, Rudel, Shirley, and Lynette. In a single, orderly line, Clyde Tolson walked the witches outside just in time to see Hoover laying into an army captain about jurisdiction. Much to Tolson's surprise, Hoover appeared to be loosing the argument as he was growing redder and redder in the face.

By the time Tolson had the witches loaded in the back of their police wagon, Hoover had stalked back over to the truck muttering curses and obscenities. Tolson didn't have to ask to know what had happened. J. Edgar Hoover had just lost an argument, and Hoover _hated_ loosing.

"Drive slow, they're coming along too."

"Understood." nodded Tolson, and he hurried over to Hoover's car to open the door.

**Fort McNair, Virginia**

The witches sat in silence as the truck bumped along the road as it drove ever closer to their final destination, wherever that would be. Barkhorn was fuming on the other side having complained several times about the indignity of being handcuffed like a common criminal. As they sat, Minna pondered Eila's words back at the house about having traveled to another world. Everything looked similar to their own world, but it struck her as entirely too odd that nobody had any knowledge about the witches. She was beginning to think Eila's remarks were not so crazy after all.

Minna turned and gazed at Sakamoto who was meditating quietly, her visible eye shut. Sensing Minna's gaze she opened her eye and glanced sideways back at her red-haired commander.

"So what do you think?" whispered Minna.

Sakamoto frowned, "About what? Getting arrested?"

Minna shook her head, "No, about what Eila said. I'm starting to think she might be right."

Sakamoto sighed and glanced up at the ceiling of the truck for several moments before responding. "How?"

"I think it might have had something to do with that anomaly we witnessed before the crash. Think about it. Even if we didn't travel to another dimension, how would you explain crash landing in the United States, let alone how nobody knows witches even exist?"

"We need to get hold of some solid proof." replied Sakamoto.

"Agreed. We might be able to use this interrogation to our advantage and acquire intel based on their reactions to our responses. Secrecy be damned, I want full disclosure."

"Understood." nodded Sakamoto with a smirk. 'This might not be so bad after all.'

**Finnish-Soviet Border, Finland**

Say what you want about the Germans, but the BF-109 was a thing of beauty. Eino couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement flow through his body as he listened to the sound of the Messerschmidt's engine. At the moment Eino and his squadron were responding to reports of Russian Yak crossing the border in an attempt to strike the base Eino was stationed at. So despite weather predicting a snowstorm coming, command had sent Eino and his boys up to check it out.

"I got nothing." came the voice of one of his squad-mates.

"Me neither. I don't like it." replied Eino.

"How much longer are we going to give this mission, Eino?"

"Until it's complete or we're recalled." replied Eino, grimacing inwardly.

They flew another half hour and the snow had just begun to fall when Eino saw a small speck in the distance. "Head's up, I think I see one."

"Then let's shoot it down quick, this storm's getting bad fast." came his wingman's voice.

Eino slammed the throttle of his craft and sped off towards the Soviet formation. As he drew closer, Eino spotted it: a lone Mig-60 hidden within the formation of Yak fighters. Enemy yaks broke formation and moved to counter the Fin's attack. With an almost psychic ability for prediction, Eino deftly flew through the attacking Yaks and within seconds Eino had the Mig well in his sights. Pulling the trigger he unleashed a spray of machine gun fire just as the Mig's pilot banked. Eino smiled. Now _this_ was going to be exciting.

While his brothers in arms engaged the Russian cannon fodder Eino pursued his mark with a thrill he hadn't felt in a long time. This pilot was good. Hell they weren't just good, it was a genuine ace! If Eino bagged this, he was sure to get another medal. However as he continued his dogfight with the Soviet ace he had completely forgotten about the ever worsening storm.

"Eino...*static* br-*static* Do you-*static*"

"I can't here you, say again?" Eino had only glanced down a second when a tingling on the back of his neck caused his gaze to shoot back up. The Mig had pulled a 180 and was closing in. A pelting of Machine-gun fire shot through the canopy, Eino ducking just in time to avoid a rather messy death. Banking hard he dodged the second attack and pulling hard up on the stick, slammed on the breaks. The nose of his craft shot upwards and the plane halted in mid-air as the Mig flew by him. Accelerating he brought the nose back down and pursued after the Mig.

It was in that moment that Eino noticed the wall of snow hurtling towards them. Eino opened fire clipping the tail of the Mig, the rear of the plane smoked and caught fire, before beginning it's high-pitched descent towards the ground. Eino banked hard to the left in an attempt to turn around but by then it was too late. A wave of turbulence, high winds, and snow hit his craft like a brick wall. But his plane was German-made and so he wouldn't go down without a fight. Eino pulled hard on the stick until his knuckles were white but the snow was pelting against, and through, his canopy so hard he couldn't see where he was going. Suddenly a tree came into view shredding his left wing clean off.

Eino watched as his plane began a nose-dive towards the ground. Without hesitation Eino reached down and pulled the eject lever. The canopy of his 109 flew off and hurdled him out into the frigged air. His shoot opened just in time to catch a strong gust of wind and Eino's eyes widened as an ominously large Cyprus tree came into view.

Eino raised his arms to cover his face, "No no nononono!"

Then everything went black.

**Fort McNair – Stockade**

"Why have you brought us in?" asked Minna firmly.

"In case your unaware miss," Hoover paused, waiting for Minna to answer.

"Lieutenant Colonel Minna-Dietland Wilcke, sir. Commanding officer of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing code named 'the Strike Witches'."

Next to Hoover, the army captain that had shown up shortly after the arrival of Hoover let out an audible and contestable snort, causing even Hoover to glare disapprovingly.

"Miss Wilcke." nodded Hoover. "In case your unaware, we are in the middle of a war. You, and your companions, crash land an aircraft that is known to be used by our enemies and furthermore bears the very markings of our enemy, Nazi Germany!"

"Now its obvious due to you being a woman that your not a soldier." stated Captain Braddock. "But we don't have any reason not to suspect you as enemy spies. Furthermore we recovered weapons and ammunition from your aircraft so we suspect your not only spies, but were attempting to supply sleeper agents..."

"That's absurd!" shouted Von Bonin, slamming her officer's cap down on the table,

"Calm down." rebuked Minna with a frown. "Those kinds of outbursts don't help our position."

Hoover went on to interrogate the witches for two hours the questions coming from both the Colonel and the man who had since identified himself as J. Edgar Hoover of the United States Federal Bureau of Investigations. Hoover and Braddock were very thorough in their questioning, asking about places, well known figures, where they were from, etc but not once did they get the answers they were expecting.

As the interrogation neared its third hour, Hoover stood and glanced over at Braddock, giving the man a shrug.

"Well if you're spies, your damned good ones." stated Hoover, "Most people I've questioned have broken by now. Which leaves only one logical possibility."

"That we're telling the truth?" offered Barkhorn coldly.

Hoover seemed unfazed by Barkhorn's death glare. "Correct. Understand that I must work within the realm of logic. However, I am not so stuck in my ways that I cannot be open to more...unconventional possibilities. Like a famous detective once said: once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains however improbable, must be true."

"Sherlock Holmes." replied Lynette.

"Quite."

"Now you say you're from another world. Offer me you're proof and I will offer mine."

"As you wish." replied Minna. Then reached into her inside coat pocket, she pulled out the orders that she had been given and slid them across the table.

"Here are our orders. The 501st was to escort our Vice Air Marshall Adolphine Galland to Brittania where we were to meet with Allied high command about plans for a new counteroffensive against our enemy the Neuroi. The orders were issued to us direct from Prime Minister Churchill."

Hoover smiled in a manner that clearly told Minna he hadn't believed a word she had just said. Regardless, he reached forward and took Minna's orders and unfolded them. Skimming through his eyes widened when they had reached the bottom. Hoover cleared his throat and held the orders out for the Colonel to look at. The colonel paled.

"This can't be right..." Braddock gasped, but was unable to hide the stammer in his voice."

"I trust you recognize the signatures?"

"I do." replied Hoover, his smile was gone now and he was fixing the witches with a sharp, analytical gaze.

"Both of them?"

"Both of them." replied Hoover.

"I offered my proof, now will you uphold your end of the bargain?"

Hoover glanced over at an MP standing by the door to the room and snapped his fingers. "You, bring us a map."

The MP frowned and glanced over at Braddock. "Sir?"

"Do it." replied Braddock with mild annoyance.

The MP left the room and returned moments later. Walking over to the table he unfolded a large paper map of the world. It didn't take the witches to realize just how right Eila had been.

"Impossible." muttered Rudel, eyes wide in shock.

"I could say the same thing." replied Hoover, crossing his arms.

Eila glanced over at Barkhorn and stuck out her tongue. "Told ya so!"

**George Whittaker's Farm – Outside Warrenton, Virginia**

The Karslander could tell something was wrong as soon as she opened her eyes. Above her a small wooden fan wobbled in its mounting as the blades sliced their way effortlessly through the air. She tried to sit up and immediately regretted it as a stabbing pain ran through her spine. Gritting her teeth she lowered herself back onto the bed she was on and resorted to attempting to turn her head to get a better look at her surroundings.

She was in, what appeared to be a small bedroom. Across from her sat an old wooden dresser in desperate need of fresh paint. The top of the dresser was covered in tools and medical supplies. Next to her bed, a garbage can sat filled with blood-soaked gauze and bandages. Whoever had obviously operated on her, had not cleaned up after they were done. Then she noticed them. Sitting on the floor in the corner were none other than her supreme commander Adolphine Galland and Yoshika Miyafuji.

Taking several deep breaths, Gundula Rall called out "Commander? Hello?"

Yoshika stirred, then Galland. The two opened their eyes, Miyafuji letting out a large yawn and stretching her arms above her head. Upon seeing her comrade awake, Galland broke into a big, smug smile and jumped to her feet.

"Herr doctor, she's awake." Galland called to an unknown man outside the room.

Moments later Doctor Anderson entered the room.

"So she is indeed." smiled the elderly doctor warmly. "How are you doing fraulien?" he stated, making a respectable attempt on the pronunciation on the last word.

"My back still hurts but I'll live. Did you operate on me?"

"That I did. Not bad for an old man, huh? Miss Miyafuji here was a lot of help too." he replied with a hearty chuckle, resting an arm on Miyafuji's shoulder.

Rall smiled. She had heard stories of Miyafuji's impressive command of healing magic, but had never experienced it for herself until now.

"I see" Rall turned her gaze to Miyafuji. "Thank you."

The young Fuso witch blushed profusely, clearly embarrassed about all the attention she was receiving.

"Don't mention it. I'm just glad your alright."

"I've been a doctor for a looong time" Anderson stated, "But never in my life have I been so blessed as to see such a thing as I did. You are going to be an incredible doctor someday young lady."

Miyafuji smiled. Galland walked over and grabbed Rall's hand and helped her into a sitting position and proceeded to help her fellow Karslander back into her uniform jacket before lacing up Rall's magical corset. Seconds later Rall was on her feet as though nothing was wrong.

"I removed the piece of shrapnel from your back." Anderson stated to Rall. "It is truly amazing that you were not paralyzed by such an injury. Be that as it may, the damage has been done and I'm afraid you'll need to wear that device for the rest of your life if you wish to avoid pain."

"I would have had to regardless, but I appreciate the concern."

"I still recommend you take it easy in the beginning though, magic or not."

"Understood."

Galland turned to the doctor. "You have been far too kind to us mein herr." said Galland with a salute. "I don't know how I could possibly repay you for aiding my fellow comrades."

"Seeing your miss Miyafuji work was reward enough for this old man I assure you." replied Anderson with a warm chuckle.

**Warrenton, A Diner**

With the interrogation behind them Minna and the others briefed Hoover and Colonel Braddock on their situation and asked for their assistance in getting home. Unfortunately Hoover stated he didn't have the kind of leverage needed to fulfill that kind of request, but stated that he could get them in touch with someone who might. When Minna asked how Hoover could pull such a meeting off, the man cast a glance at Shirley and replied,

"With the help of your Miss Yeager."

Shirley could only stare back with a look of utter confusion. Minna frowned, she didn't like that Hoover was the kind of man who always played his cards close to his chest.

"I'll give you a call when I have things arranged." Hoover stated, shaking Minna's hands. "I'll notify the driver to take you back to your friends."

"Thank you." replied Minna.

The car ride back to Warrenton was as silent as their ride to the base. It was only natural though as they were all still shocked to find themselves in some sort of parallel world. Even scarier however was the looming possibility that they might never be able to make it home.

As the car hit Warrenton proper, Sakamoto's stomach growled. Causing Minna to giggle for the first time in their very long day. Leaning forward in her seat Minna asked the driver to pull over at the first restaurant they came to. As the others ordered, Minna borrowed a quarter from their driver and called the Whittaker's farm. After filling the Whittaker's in, Minna was told that Doc Anderson had left only an hour ago and that the rest of the girls were all up and moving.

Minna then asked if they could bring the others to the diner and that they would all had to talk.

**(moments later)**

"Milk shake! Milk shake! Milk shake Milk shake!" bounced Luchinni in her seat, with all the maturity of a six year old. "So cold and creamy and delicious!"

"Luchinni! You're making a scene." hissed Barkhorn, her face red with embarrassment. She could feel all the eyes in the small diner on the group of witches. "Take a page from Hartmann's book, shes...HARTMANN!"

Hartmann was leaned over, face on the table with a half-awake expression moaning, a pool of drool forming from her mouth. "So hungry..." she whined.

"We just ordered. Now sit up! People are watching!" ordered Barkhorn, yanking Hartmann back up into a sitting position.

Sakamoto turned and glanced at Luchinni. "If you have that much exercise ensign, maybe I need to work you harder. There's plenty of time to do so while we wait."

Luchinni froze in place. "That's ok, I think I got it."

When the food finally came, the group ate in silence while at a second table Von Bonin, Rudel, and Galland were going through a stack of newspapers and magazines reading anything they could on the war.

"I still can't believe it all." stated Rudel, shaking her head in disgust. "Its shameful that Karlsland should share the same territory with such a country."

"Well," relied Galland, flipping the page of the local gazette "from what I've gathered its a little more complicated than just a simple takeover. It seems the previous leader ran his country into the ground trying the very same thing and lead to his countries surrender. Now this Hitler has used the previous war to springboard his way into power."

"That's insane!"

"I quite agree" scowled Von Bonin in disgust. "And I get the sickening feeling this desire for revenge is only the tip of the iceburg."

Von Bonin cursed. As she did so one of the waitress' happened to overhear and walked over to the table. "Please mind your language. This is a family restraunt."

Von Bonin tipped her officers cap, "My apologies miss."

Nodding, the waitress headed off into the kitchen to grab the next order.

"Smooth" mutters Rall, taking a sip of her coffee. Suddenly her eyes go wide as it notices a headline on the back of the newspaper Rudel happened to be reading. Reaching over she yanks it from Rudel's hands.

"Hey!" Rudel protests, unable to hide her annoyance.

Gundula Rall answers by flipping the paper over and tapping on the headline "Vichy Collaborators Sabotage Allied Efforts To Liberate France", a big grin on her face. Rudel takes a moment to contemplate the headline then returns Ralls grin. Galland glances over at the two conspirators and sighs helplessly.

"Hey Perrine!" calls Rudel, still grinning as Rall looks away to hide her poor attempt to stop from sniggering.

Perrine glances over at Rudel, "What?"

"Your an enemy!" Rudel replies bluntly wearing a mischievous grin "Does that mean I can shoot you?"

As soon as she said the words Rudel and Rall burst out laughing as Perrine jumps to her feet in the face and fists clenched into tight balls at her sides. "Why you little."

Rudel puts her hands up in mock surrender, still laughing "You wouldn't hit a superior officer, would you?"

As Perrine makes to stalk over to the table she is suddenly jumped from behind by Lynnette and Miyafuji as they try to restrain the incensed Gallian witch. Meanwhile Lucchini had proceeded to start bouncing up and down in her seat chanting 'Shoot Perrine! Shoot Perrine! Shoot Perrine."

"Now now." interjects Galland. "No shooting Perrine."

"...Perrine? That's enough." came a voice so calm and passive it sent chills down the spines of all the witches present. Perrine's face turned a bright red as she slowly relaxed and turned her gaze to where Sakamoto was sitting, watching the Gallian witch disapprovingly out of the corner of her eye.

Not wanting to admit defeat Perrine went to make one last death glare at the two Karlsland officers when she too noticed the paper's headline. "What?! Why would, how could they, I mean..."

"What is it?" asked Lynn as she moved to peer over her friend's shoulder. As soon as she did so she let out a huge gasp of surprise.

"Why are you two acting all surprised?" asked Eila, who was reading a different article about the Soviet Union's war effort over Sanya's shoulder. "This whole world is backwards."

"Its hard to tell which side I'm on..."came Sanya's voice softly.

"Aw, come on Sanya," said Eila "If I had to be invaded, I'd rather it be you over someone else."

Sanya looked up at her friend just in time to see Eila glance away, cheeks burning. Smiling sweetly, she leaned her head on Eila's shoulder and continued reading.

"Lucky we dont have to worry about fighting each other, huh?" stated Yoshika naively.

'Oh Yoshika...' thought Lynnette silently shaking her head.

"No, we have enough to worry about with the Neuroi. I just hope it lasts once the war is finally over..." stated Sakamoto.

Yoshika blinked, Sakamoto's words flying straight over the small Fuso witches head.

**Somewhere on the Finland-Soviet Border**

It didn't take Eino long to cut himself free from his parachute. Eino had taken shelter near what was left of his smoldering aircraft but the heat was dying fast. Thankfully the snow had already died off but Eino had no clue where he was. Grabbing his pistol he checked the clip one last time before grabbing his survival kit and marching off through the snow hoping silently that the other pilot had not survived.

After about a mile Eino picked up the smell of smoke. Flicking the safety off his gun he crept quietly towards the smell. Within minutes Eino located the crashed Mig. Creeping around to the front of the aircraft, he peered inside and cursed when no body was present. Suddenly he spun around but no-one was there. Had he been hearing things?

Eino lowered his weapon and stood in the silence on the night and just listened. Sure enough he heard noises off in the distance. Bringing his pistol up, Eino swallowed hard before proceeding in the direction that he had heard noises from. After only a few moments Eino pushed through some brush and into a clearing. And what he saw halted him in his tracks and caused the gun in his hand to fall limply to the side. No more than twelve feet in front of him, standing with her back in his direction was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her bare skin glistened in the moonlight and her shoulder-length wavy white hair reminded him of drifts of snow. So transfixed by her beauty he hadn't noticed she had turned around until he heard the click of a Makarov.

"Стой, где стоишь!" she shouted angrily, her face red with embarrassment as she held her service pistol in one hand and covered her bare chest with the other.

Eino raised his hands with a smile on his face. "What ever you say, doll."

**Authors Note:** This chapter written with sincerest apologies to Eino Juutilainen's wife.

The Russian (brought to you by Google Translate) translates as 'Stay where you are!' (according to them). I'll let you guess who the woman is ~_^

If you like the story so far, please review!


	3. A Lily in the Woods

**To all readers: Please note that the first two chapters have been redone for better pacing. I strongly recommend re-reading them so as not to miss the background information for certain scenes within Chapter 3.**

**May 29th,Washington DC: Office of the War Department**

Hoover sat quietly alongside Captain Braddock as General Marshall read the orders in front of him. A wry smile visible on his face.

"I'll be damned if I know how this Lieutenant-Colonel Wilcke got these, but that's definitely Ike's signature." stated Marshall plainly as he set Minna's orders down in front of him.

"So the question is, what do you want from me?" asked Marshall.

"The Lieutenant Colonel requested our help getting home." Hoover continued before Marshall could protest, "Now I know you have the war to run, that's why I was thinking of putting him in touch with your...specialists." Hoover stated delicately. "I think they're the perfect men for the job."

"You do realize that particular operation is top secret."

Hoover nodded.

"Care to explain how _you_ know about it?"

Hoover said nothing, he wasn't about to tell the general that he had taken the liberty of tapping the army commander's phones.

"And why should I believe any of this anyways?" asked Marshall.

"Because of this. May I present Captain Charlotte Ellwyn Yeager of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing."

Hoover set down a transcript of Yeager's medical history and military background. It had taken some coaxing, but when he convinced Commander Minna that it was necessary to secure them aid, the Karlslander relented.

Marshall glanced at the file with mild disinterest. "And why should I care about her?"

Hoover didn't answer. Instead he produced a similar looking document and set it down next to Shirley's profile. Marshall glanced at the new document and read aloud "Charles Elwood Yeager."

"So she has a name nearly identical to one of our pilots. This proves nothing."

"It's more than that, sir." pressed Braddock diplomatically. "Look closer."

Marshall sighed and gave the two documents another look. As he did, the general's eyes grew larger and larger. Hoover couldn't help but lean back in his chair looking pleased with himself.

"This cant be right..." Marshall stated slowly, glancing back and forth between the two documents. "Its not possible."

"It's completely possible."

"Bring them in. Now."

**St. Trond Airfield, Belgium**

"Here he comes now, stand up straight Hartmann." hissed Barkhorn as the two watched their new squad commander walk up to them. Like them, Wolf-Dietrich Wilcke was a young man who held himself in the manner of a veteran and not some cocky young upstart."

Barhorn and Hartmann saluted. Wolf returned the salute with a pleasant smile. "You must be Barkhorn and Hartmann, am I right? Commander Von Bonin told me all about you two. I look forward to working with you both."

"Have we received new orders yet?" asked Barkhorn

"Actually yes, we're to head for Normandy. Our mission will be to support General Rommel in the defense of the Atlantic Wall."

Hartmann perked up. "I hear French food is pretty damn good."

"And their wine even better" nodded Wolf, "But don't get any ideas. We still have a job to do."

Hartmann's shoulders visibly sunk and he let out a loud sigh earning him a death glare from Gerd. "Yeah, yeah."

Wolf arched a brow, a bemused smile well hidden.

**Washington DC: Office of the War Department**

To say he was pissed would have been an understatement.

After a ten hour flight from Allied Command in London to Washington DC, Charles Yeager had now found himself being escorted by a NCO down the corridors of the War Department. Had he been given any idea _why_ it was deemed so important for him to be taken out of his squadron and flown state side he probably would have had less of an issue with it.

Finally he couldn't hold it in any longer. "What Jack ass' bullshit idea was it to drag me all the way back here?!"

The officer turned around, and Yeager found the NCO's unreadable expression uncomfortable. The officer nodded to a large oak door that the two were now standing in front of.

"His, sir." the officer stated plainly.

Chuck Yeager turned his head slowly and glanced at the plaque on the door. Immediately his face paled and his heart sank.

"Say," he began slowly. "I'm not getting court marshaled again am I?"

"I wouldn't know, sir" replied his escort dully.

The officer opened the door and showed his charge into a small sitting room wear a pretty secretary was sitting at a desk typing. Across from him sat two young girls. One wearing what looked like a US army uniform and the other almost looked like...

Yeager shook his head and laughed inwardly. 'Nah, couldn't be."

The NCO noticed the Yeager looking at the two girls and leaned in close. "You are not to engage in conversation with them until General Marshall says otherwise. Is that understood, sergeant."

Chuck Yeager nodded. Satisfied, the officer saluted both groups then turned and left.

Silence fell throughout the room, save for the soft clicking of the secretary's typewriter. Yeager in silence sat and watched the girl in the tan jacket, his curiosity piqued.

"He's staring at me" Shirley hissed through gritted teeth, as she tried to avoid making eye contact. It wasn't that she was shy nor was it any sense of embarrassment, the young man's stare just made her uncomfortable.

"Maybe he likes you?" Minna offered playfully.

"EHHH?" Shirley whined, earning a reproachful look from Minna. Then going back to a whisper, hissed "But he's old."

Before Minna could respond, the door behind the secretary leading to Marshall's office opened and an orderly stepped out. "The General will see you now."

**(Moments Later)**

"With all due respect, sir, this is absurd."

Flight Officer Charles Yeager was less than pleased with the ultimatum he had been handed by General Marshall: Act as official liaison to the witches on behalf of United States Army Air Force and have all records of his court marshal dropped, plus receive his long overdue promotion to Captain, or be stuck as a flying officer for the foreseeable future. Marshall, to his credit remained unfazed by the officer's outburst.

"The kraut said..."

"Mind your manners Flight Officer!" Marshall stated with mild irritation, "That's a senior officer your speaking of regardless of her affiliation. Remember, you 'salute' the uniform. Not the individual."

Minna blinked, unsure if that was intended as an insult.

"The Lieutenant Colonel said her unit has no intention of fighting for us."

"Nor for the enemy." retorted Marshall.

"If I may General," intervened Minna respectfully. "It is not the desire of myself or my commander to make you remove valuable personnel from the front lines for our expense."

"Call it peace of mind." replied Marshall. "As of right now, your soldiers without a country. If you choose to get involved in 'our war' as you put it, these United States have no clear picture of whose side you would take."

"If," began Minna, the hairs on the back of her neck bristling with indignation "we chose to be involved, we would fight for who we've always fought. Humanity."

General Marshall leaned back in his seat, the wooden chair creaking softly.

"Come on, General" smiled Shirley cheerfully "We already have a war we're fighting. One we have to get back to. We just might need some help to do it."

Marshall nodded, coming forward in his chair. Reaching out, he grabbed a pen from his desk and began writing. "You said you had technical staff with you correct?"

"That is correct." confirmed Minna hesitantly.

"I'm going to set you up with two of our brightest minds in this country. This letter will allow your staff to see and work along side them. Between you and them, they're your best bet at getting home. I hope your up for more flying Lieutenant Commander..."

Minna's brow furrowed for a moment and she turned to look at Shirley, who offered a shrug.

"Where are you sending us?"

"Chicago"

**Argonne National Laboratory, Illinois**

"Doctor Fermi? Might I have a moment?" asked a young scientist.

The slightly balding Italian glanced over his right shoulder from where he was standing in front of a large blackboard in his office doing equation after equation in is efforts to develop the first atomic bomb.

"Did Oppenheimer return my call yet?"

"No sir, but you received a call from the War Department."

Fermi turned back around and continued to work on his equations, mumbling to himself in Italian as he did so.

"Did you tell them we haven't even got a reaction yet?" he said suddenly, having realized the intern was still standing behind him.

The intern jumped nervously, "Well, I did doctor. That's not why they called?"

A moment of silence past between the two until Fermi let out an annoyed sigh and set down his chalk.

_I'm never going to get these damnable equations finished._

"Well? Spit it out man."

"Well the call was from General Marshall. He wants to know what you know about...time travel."

**A road in Virginia**

The car was quiet as Minna and the two Yeagers were driven back to Warrenville. Shirley looked positively uncomfortable with the situation as her male counterpart was still fuming about being ordered to tag along.

"Calm yourself Flying Officer. We want to get you back where you belong more than you might give me credit for." remarked Minna soothingly. "The best way we're going to accomplish this is by working together. If we can get Marshall to trust us, he won't need you here with us now will he?"

Charles Yeager glanced over at Minna more sharply than he intended. "Perhaps. What did you have in mind."

"When we get back, I want you to brief our group on everything you know about the war."

Yeager scoffed. "Read a newspaper."

"Information that the general public would not be made aware of."

Yeager's eyes widened. _Did she just ask me to do what I think she did?_

"Look ma'am, I can't just spill information like that. I could get shot for espionage."

"If we can use our intelligence to help you, and Marshall is made aware of this, then it will make us and you look good."

Yeager looked out the window. She had a point, but what the Karlslander was asking him to do was still illegal.

**Somewhere near the Finnish-Soviet Border**

To say Eino wasn't enjoying the view would have been a downright lie, even as the Russian pilot had her gun trained right at his forehead. The girl made to get out of the hotspring when she suddenly stopped and waved the gun angrily at Eino growling at him in Russian.

"I get it, I get it." replied Eino, turning around. Immediately he heard the girl exit the water and run over to where her clothes had been stacked. Mere minutes later, she barked in Russian again and Eino turned back around to see the same girl now fully dressed in a Soviet pilot's uniform. Eino was dumbstruck. _This_ was the ace he had been fighting?

The girl began shouting questions at him but Eino couldn't understand a word of it. He shrugged helplessly. "Look, lady, I don't know Russian." Then a thought occurred. "English? Do you know English?" he said slowly and as clearly as possible. Then pointing to himself said "Eino"  
The russian frowned, sighed, then pointed to herself "Lydia."

'Pretty name...' Eino thought, then a smile crossed over his face and he just couldn't help himself. Pointing at the woman he said "Lydia". The girl nodded, but did not lower the weapon. Pointing back at himself "Stud." The girl blinked, her face twisting with confusion, then shock, before Lydia rolled her eyes sarcastically. "You think yourself a cute one, don't you?" replied Lydia Litvyak in English.

"Well I am good looking..." offered Eino smuggly. 'The women always love charm' he thought to himself.

"You shot at me, didn't you." asked Lydia cooly.

"Uh...yeah, that was me." replied Eino sheepishly. "I mean, come on. We are enemies, that's what we do isn't it?"

Lydia lowered her weapon and holstered it. "You could have shot me while I was bathing." She stated, pointing to the gun still in Eino's hand.

"I suppose I could have." replied Eino honestly, before slumping down onto the ground. "But I didn't want too."

"Because I'm a woman?" snapped Lydia, as though offended.

"No, not really. I mean, you are very pretty, but apart from being less than honorable to shoot someone in the back I just felt like we had a connection."

"A connection?" balked Lydia incredulously "That your idea of a pickup line?"

"No. No! Well, maybe." Eino admitted finally, "But when we fought, I had a feeling that I hadn't felt since the day I first flew a fighter plane. The feeling that this is where I belong."

Lydia blushed despite herself. She admired the man's passions, however misguided though they might be, but it was obvious he was telling her the truth. She had never experienced or expected such openness from a man she had been told her entire career was an enemy. Sudden movement by Eino snapped Lydia back from her thoughts and she fired off a shot from her pistol.

"Whoah lady, easy. I'm just getting some food." Eino cried.

Lydia relaxed and lowered her pistol once again, but refused to take her eyes off the Finnish pilot. As he began eating her stomach gave her away. Eino looked up at the Russian before offering her some of his rations. She shook her head and reached into her bag, but a hole in the bottom quickly told her where her food was. She glanced around frantically but did not see the rations anywhere. As she looked her eyes caught Eino's, who was watching her with curiosity. Then he reached out and offered her his rations once more. With a sigh and a small, appreciative smile, she took the rations from Eino and the two began to eat.

**Whittaker's Farm – Outside Warrenton**

Chuck Yeager only just finished his briefing when Galland stood up.

"So there you have it. This is our situation in a nutshell. As your commander it's my job to get you back home safely. To do that, we need help, but General Marshall wants us to help the so-called 'Allied Forces' win the war with our magic. Though it would appear we have little choice, I do not think we should get involved. Not just because it's not our fight, but because we would be fighting human beings. How many of you think you could kill another person?"

"The witches glanced around at each-other but no one raised their hands."

"I believe we can find another way to get home if we look and try hard enough." Galland finished.

"Well I say we fight!" shot Barkhorn, standing up, her hands clenched into fists that were shaking at her sides. "You heard the same thing we did, what our countries were doing. What Karlsland is doing to people."

"We don't have any proof. Only speculation." countered Galland, though she understood where Barkhorn was coming from. "I think," Galland continued, "that we should not be hasty in decisions that have such consequences attached to them."

"Are you sure that's is the right thing to do?" came Hartmann's voice. "I don't like the situation either, but weird alternate realities aside, these are still our homelands in spirit."

"This is different, lieutenant." replied Galland. "These are other people we'd be fighting, not the Neuroi."

"But-"

"Damn it Hartmann listen to yourself!" burst Barkhorn angrily. "We'd be risking our lives for people we don't even know. We have no obligation to help them."

"Do you know everyone in _our_ world" shot Hartmann with a disapproving frown.

"We're witches, we're supposed to protect people not fight them! Could you fight another human Hartmann?! Someone with hopes and dreams? Someone with loved ones waiting for them to come home? Someone who can feel pain and loss? The Neuroi have none of these and you damn well know it!"

Hartman glanced away looking genuinely hurt causing Barkhorn's demeanor to quickly soften.

"Sorry Hartmann," Barkhorn stated softly glancing away "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"You are right on one point however." stated Rudel. "No matter how you slice the truth, we've all had it easy. We've fought the perfect enemy for soldiers like us."

"Even so, Lieutenant Hartmann is right to be concerned about getting home." stated Porche.

Ursula Hartmann, who was standing beside the buxom weapons engineer nodded. "We have no information on what that phenomena we encountered over the Channel was, nor anyway to analyze or research it. Without knowing what that was, we cant be certain such an event can be replicated."

"As much as I hate the idea of getting involved, can we really turn a blind eye to this and still sleep at night? We need the help that General Marshall can provide." agreed Porche.

"Porsche's right." noted Minna, calmly. "Its true its not our war or even our world, but we're soldiers. We're witches who have sworn our lives to protect people. If we turn our backs on these people we've forsaken our most sacred of duties."

Galland stared at Minna, clearly shocked. Galland had known Minna for a long time and was surprised to see Minna take such a stand. "Alright then, we'll put it to a vote."

******Carentan, France**

"Feeling better sir?" asked Dieter

"Fairly" replied Rommel as the two walked along the streets of Carentan. "Though I have the feeling things won't me this quiet much longer."

"You think the attack is coming?"

"I do." replied Rommel with a nod. "But the real fight wont be here, it will be inland."

"You think the allies will take Normandy?"

"With High Command organizing the defense so hap-haphazardly? Oh it will cost them, dearly I imagine, but take it they will."

"How was the meeting with High Command, by the way?"

"Keitel and Jodl seem dreadfully pleased with their defensive line. Their overconfidence made the Fuhrer quite happy. I voiced my opinion that more troops were needed to secure the beaches but Keitel assured Hitler I was being 'overly paranoid' about the Allies chances of success."

Deiter said nothing.

"Win or lose I just hope this war is over soon" the Fox sighed as he looked up at the graying sky.

"At least with the coming weather we won't have to worry about paratroopers..."

******Allied Prison Camp, Southern Italy**

Lucchini stared down at the 'food' in front of him with a groan. Sure the camp's food could have easily been worse, but Francesco would have much rather preferred being in an American prison camp. British food was far to bland for the Italian's liking. Yet he was adamant about staying in shape so the young pilot dug in. As he ate Lucchini caught a pair of patrolling Mps talking about some large buildup of forces back home in England.

'So they're finally making the big push.' thought Lucchini smugly between bites. 'Things will get really interesting for Mussolini if Germany has to pull their support forces out.'

It was well known within Lucchini's unit that the young man bore an intense dislike for their supreme commander, but like a lot of people it fight or be shot as a traitor. Personally Lucchini hoped the Brits would win, as Lucchini feared being captured alive would be reason enough for a quick death.

******George Whittaker's Farm – Outside Warrenton, Virginia**

Chuck Yeager awoke to what sounded like a squadron of fighter planes. Shooting up in bed he threw on his uniform and ran for the stairs nearly careening into Frederike Porsche who was exiting the bathroom.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

Yeager stared. The woman, who was almost as well-endowed as his female counterpart stood seemingly unfazed by the noise outside. Catching on quickly Frederike smiled warmly.

"Ah, sorry about the noise. Ursula and I have been getting our Strikers up and running. I was just heading back out."

"Strikers?" asked Yeager curiously.

Porsche grinned proudly, "Come on, I'll show you."

The Karlsland engineer turned and headed for the stairs before stopping again, having realized the young American had not moved to follow.

"Something wrong?" she asked curiously?

Yeager's eyes drifted helplessly down to Porsche's unbuttoned shirt and her well rounded figure. "You're going to go out like that?" he asked, clearly taken aback.

Porsche glanced down at her chest and began buttoning as much of her shirt as the fabric would allow. "Sorry about that," she replied unapologetic ally, "So used to being in Africa I just kinda forgot."

She began walking downstairs, Yeager close behind. After last night the American had clearly loosened up a bit and Porsche could clearly see the man wanted to know more about them.

"You were in Africa?" Yeager asked curiously.

"Thats right, I was stationed in Tobruk with the Afrika Corps in order to test my new ground assault striker. I call it the Tiger."

"Tiger?" Yeager replied "The German's have a tank called the Tiger. I hear it's a real beast. Say, if you were with the Afrika Corps, did you know Rommel?"

"The Desert Fox? Sure I knew him, a real gent that one." laughed Porche as she reached for the door.

Before she could open it, Yeager stepped around her and opened the door himself. Porsche arched a brow and smiled wryly "Why thank you."

"Miss..."

Yeager followed Frederike Porsche around the side of the house to the barn where Ursula had a series of large metal objects shaped like aircraft engines. Each pair had a unique pattern and marking on them. As the pair approached Ursula looked up from where she was working on Hartmann's striker. Behind her stood Shirley in a white grease-covered tank top working on another striker bearing a bright blue star.

"Morning officer." nodded Ursula, setting down her screwdriver and walking over to Porsche.

"I was going to show Officer Yeager our strikers."

"I could show him mine" came Shirley's voice. "I was just getting her ready for a test flight."

"Your in for a show now. Shirley's the fastest witch in the world. I heard she broke the speed of sound with those things."

Chuck Yeager's eyes widened. "Wait. Those are the Strikers you were talking about!?" he asked, completely dumbfounded.

"Surprised?" asked Ursula Hartmann.

"A bit, can those really fly?"

"Just you wait and see!" grinned Shirley.

"The strikers act as an interface for the witches. The magic engine takes the witches power and transforms and makes flight possible."

"So your like, what, the fuel?"

"Pretty much." nodded Porsche.

"Alright," came Shirley's voice, causing the three to turn towards where the Liberion witch had been working. The busty red-head had climbed up onto the table she had been working at. Jumping off the table, her slender legs slid gracefully into the Striker, a bright blue light erupted from the striker. Yeager watched dumbstruck as long rabbit ears sprouted from the witches' head.

"Lets go Merlin!" cried Yeager and with a roar of the engine she was airborne.

"Well I'll be damned." breathed Yeager dumbstruck as he watched his counterpart fly effortlessly through the air soaring farther and farther away from them. When she was almost out of sight Yeager noticed the witch pull a 180 and head back in their direction."

"Here it comes!" muttered Porsche quietly. Ursula Hartmann nodded.

Yeager was just about to ask what Porsche had meant when Shirley shot past them so fast he almost missed it. Seconds later a roaring shock-wave hit them causing Yeager to jump. "What was that."

"That..." stated Ursula Hartmann, "Was the speed of sound."

'The speed of sound.' thought Yeager to himself, realing only now that his heart racing in his chest having seen something he never could have imagined. 'Someday, I'm going to do that too.'

Several minutes later Charlotte Yeager touched down outside the Whittaker's barn and dismounted from her striker. Brushing off her uniform and running a hand through her hair Shirley glanced over at Yeager with a broad smile. "So, whatcha think?"

"Incredible." stated Yeager.

Only few feet behind where Shirley was standing, Ursula Hartmann was bending over Hartmann's striker unit while reaching deep inside the intricate mechanics trying to solder a loose wire in place. The process was nerve-wracking for her as she could barely see what she was doing. As she struggled Frederike began taking apart the outer casing of Barkhorn's striker.

"Well, I'm going to go grab something to eat." stated Shirley taking a few steps backwards before crashing into Erica who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, having come to see how her striker's repairs were coming along. Startled Erica fell back into Ursula who let out a yelp of surprise and jumped, smacking the tip of the hot soldering iron square on the back of her sister's right hand. Erica Hartmann let out a cry of pain and bent over clutching her burnt hand.

"Hartmann!" yelped Shirley as Porsche and Yeager ran over to see if Erica was alright.

"Sis, I'm so sorry!" cried Ursula apologetically.

"Shirley, go grab Miyafuji.

**St. Trond Airbase, Belgium**

Barkhorn was beside himself in shock. Hartmann had been climbing up into his Messerschmidt when he let out a loud yelp and let go of the side of the aircraft causing him to loose his balance and fall off the step ladder and onto the hangar floor.

"You alright?" called Barkhorn, climbing out of his aircraft and jogging over to his fallen comrade.

"My hand..." replied Hartmann, a look of confusion and pain on his face. "It feels like its on fire."

"What did you do?" asked Barkhorn, in confusion.

"Nothing...Christ it hurts" winced Hartmann.

Barkhorn knelt down and examined his wingman's hand but it neither appeared broken or injured in any way.

Having heard Hartmann's fall, Wolf-Dietrich Wilcke ran over to join them from where he had been doing last minute safety checks on his own aircraft before the JG-53 set off for Normandy. "Whats going on?"

"Don't ask me, Hartmann hurt himself somehow but nothing seems to be wrong." replied Barkhorn planely.

"What did you say?" asked Wilcke, surprise in his voice.

Barkhorn repeated his diagnosis then watched as their new commander raised his right hand to his chin and glanced away in thought. After a moment Wolf looked back at the two aces and replied only with "Come with me."

Wing Commander Wilcke lead the two aces into the former office of Hubert Von Bonin and motioned for the two to sit down while he went over and grabbed an ice pack for Hartmann. After he did so Wolf sat down behind Von Bonin's old desk and looked squarely at the two aces.

"What I'm about to tell you is not to leave this room, is that understood?"

Barkhorn and Hartmann exchanged glances but nodded.

"Before I arrived here I was stationed at High Command in Berlin when I heard the rumor that two high ranking officers: Adolph Galland and Gunther Rall had collapsed during a meeting with Air Marshall Goering. Galland has since returned to duty, but after that event Rall was reported to be suffering from near-debilitating back pain. He's been taken off active duty."

"That must have been a bad shock." murmured Barkhorn.

Wolf did not seem amused. "Further more after word got out about that incident, we received a report that Hans Rudel had a similar case of sudden blackout on the runway. He crashed his plane into a hangar and is in the hospital as well.

"Damn..." breathed Barkhorn, casting a sideways glance at Hartmann.

"Something odd is going on and we don't know what. Just be careful." Wolf paused. "Both of you."

"Yes sir."

**Somewhere near the Finnish-Soviet Border**

"So what now?" asked Eino as he sat in silence across from the Russian ace.

"Now we go our separate ways. But know that this does not make us friends." replied Lydia Litvyak curtly.

Eino stood. "Perhaps not, but that doesn't mean I cant wish you luck all the same." he flirted.

For the first time since their encounter the Russian smiled a beautiful, bemused smile and shook her head. "You silly man..." Then she reached down, grabbed her bag and began to head off in the direction of the Soviet border.

Eino watched the girl go with a hint of sadness. It was sad that a cute girl like that had to be his enemy. Then, in a moment of recklessness he took a deep breath and ran over to her. "Wait. At least tell me your full name. Mine's Eino Juutilainen."  
**  
**Lydia turned around, "Its Litvyak."

Eino's heart swooned helplessly. 'Lydia Litvyak.' he thought, staring at her as though trying to etch her face into his mind. Lydia, becoming uncomfortable with Eino's stare turned once again to leave. But Eino wasn't ready to give up just yet.

"You know, I'm glad a cute girl like you is my enemy." he stammered.  
Lydia stopped again, turned , and fixed Eino with an incredulous gaze.  
"And why on earth would you say that?" she asked walking back over towards Eino.

"It means I'll never have to live this down." Before Lydia could even ask what he meant, Eino reached forward and grabbed the Russian girl by her shoulders and pulled her in, planting a kiss right on her lips. Lydia's eyes widened and she froze in place. She closed her eyes to hide the tears threatening to fall. Not from Eino's advances, but from the pain searing through the small, hair-line fracture in her left shoulder.

Letting go, Eino stepped back and smiled at Lydia who was now red in the face. Reaching up her right hand she brought it hard across the man's face with all her might. Moments later, Eino was standing alone.

"Women" he muttered to himself with a smile and began his own hike back to base.


	4. Into the Unknown

**May 30th – Temporary Soviet Airbase, Finnish-Soviet Border**

Lydia Litvyak's face was still red with indignation as she trudged back onto the airbase. As she approached the base's Commissar jogged up to her with three armed guards.

"Litvyak, where the hell have you been?! Wheres the rest of your squadron?!" he stated angrily.

Lydia paused, then in an outright lie replied "I couldn't say, my Mig suffered engine troubles and crashed. I had to bail out." Even as she said those words she hoped the Commissar would be too lazy to look into her claims himself. "A storm hit just as we were about to attack the target, its possible the Finnish scum ambushed them."

The Commissar glared at Lydia coldly then straightened. It had been his idea after all to send them out despite the storm and he was going to be damned sure the Central Committee never got wind of this. Relaxing slightly he cast a final, reproachful glare at Lydia and replied "Well then I'm glad your back, if the rest of the squad is dead we're going to need all the help we can get here."

The Commissar stalked off. As soon as he was out of earshot Lydia could finally allow herself to breath again. She didn't like being dishonest, but this was different. This was self preservation.

**May 30th – Carentan France**

"Wolf-Dietrich Wilcke and the JG-53 reporting for duty herr Feldmarschall." Commander Wicke stated with a click of his jackboots.

Rommel looked up from his desk with a faint smile, and Wolf noticed the man was clearly not sleeping well.

"Squadron Leader Wilcke, I want your group to patrol the Atlantic Wall daily. Watch for anything out of the ordinary. We need to know as soon as the Allies make their move."

"By your command herr Feldmarschall." saluted Wolf.

"Very good. Dismissed."

Wolf-Dietrich Wilcke turned and exited Rommel's office. As the door shut behind him Dieter glanced over at his commander from where he had been sitting in the far corner of the room and asked plainly "Sending our best unit on daily patrols? Won't we need them in top shape when the fighting starts?"

Rommel sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I thought about that, but should it start suddenly its better to have our best already in the air then to have to waste time getting everyone airborne."

Dieter nodded in agreement. "That does make sense, when you put it that way. Still, first Whittman shows up, now the 53rd. Sure is an amazing group you're getting together."

Rommel frowned at the mention of Germany's ace tank commander. "Perhaps, but I don't trust Whittmann. He's loyal to the party, not to Germany, and hes a glory hound. Honestly I think our 'precious' tank commander will be more trouble than his supposed skill is worth."

Dieter shrugged.

"Don't misunderstand me, Dieter. While I'm happy to get all the Tiger tanks I can, I don't want to have to deal with that man's delusion-filled ego."

(**Meanwhile)**

"Is the engine fixed yet?" called Whittmann, coming up alongside his Tiger tank.

"No sir, still can't get it to turn over." replied the oil-soaked mechanic.

Whittmann scowled. The tiger was an incredible tank, when it worked, but the engines loved to break down. For all its power, the Tiger was, at best, wholly unreliable.

"What's got you in a bad mood?" came a young man's voice and Michael Whittmann turned to see his gunner Fritz Lauer walking up behind him.

"First we get redeployed to Normandy, now the tank's broken again."  
"What's wrong with Normandy? If the rumors are true, we should be seeing a lot of action soon. Should do wonders for our kill count."  
"I know that," replied Whittmann angrily. "But why were we put under Rommel's command?!"

Lauer looked confused, "Because he's a hero?"

"Hes a coward and a traitor!" snarled Whittman lividly, slamming a fist against the side of his Tiger. "The Fuehrer ordered him to hold his ground in Africa and what does he do? He practically hands North Africa to Tommy then disobeys orders and retreats!"

Lauer knew Whittman long enough to know not to reply. Unlike his commanding officer, Lauer was a rational man, and he could appreciate how hard Rommel's situation in Africa had been. Whittmann on the other hand, was a full-fledged member of the Nazi party and a fanatical nationalist. Like many times before, Lauer knew now was one of those times where one could only nod their head, smile, and say nothing.

**Fort McNair – Outside Washington DC**

Minna-Dietland Wilcke and Chuck Yeager stood on the tarmac as Frederike Porsche and Ursula Hartmann made one final check of their bags.

"We'll be heading for London in a few days. I'll call you with an update when we arrive." stated Minna.

"Will do commander." nodded Porsche.

"Have a safe flight and good luck. The people there should be able to contact us if you run into any problems."

Minna watched as the two Karlslanders boarded the small transport plane that would take them to Chicago. Moments later the engines sprang to life and the plane began to taxi towards the runway. The two watched in silence as the plane took off.

"Well," said Minna after the plane was airborne. "Now the real work begins."

Despite the facade she had put on for Marshall, and for her comrades to some extent, Minna was still hesitant to put her girls in a war that wasn't theirs to fight. Still she could not deny that the more she read of the Allies war efforts against Germany, and more importantly the rumors coming out of German controlled territories by resistance forces, the more she could draw a line between the Neuroi and these so-called Nazis.

Minna and Yeager walked back to the car where Rudel, Rall, and Galland were waiting.

"You sure this is what you want?" asked Galland quietly.

"I don't _want_ any conflict." Minna replied gloomily, "It is never-the-less our duty to take whatever action is necessary to get our girls home safely."

Galland offered a faint, knowing smile. She and Minna had been friends for longer than Minna had known even Sakamoto so Galland was well aware of the duress Minna was under with all that had been going on. "You're right, of course."

"Agreed." nodded Rall.

"So what's our plan of action." asked Rudel.

"Minna and I will meet with General Marshall. If everything goes well we'll fly to London tomorrow and get briefed by command there. Once we have a better picture of what the Allies' plan is we can make our own plan of action."

"So we're not going to be working with them then?" asked Rudel curiously.

"Working alongside does not mean taking orders from." replied Galland. "I plan to lay down the stipulation that with our support comes our full autonomy."

Rall arched a brow. "You think he'll go for that?"

"I'm fairly confident. If we can show off our power as witches, then he'll agree to any of our demands. That's just how high commanders are."

"Then let's go meet the General." replied Minna.

**Whittaker's Farm – Outside Warrenton, Virginia**

"So what do you all of you think about this?" asked Sakamoto as the remaining witches sat alone in the Whittaker's living room.

"Whether they bare the same names, or not, these are still our homelands in spirit." argued Barkhorn. "Every article I read about the crap those German's are pulling makes me feel dirty."

"What about you Perrine?" asked Sakamoto.

"We swore an oath to protect humanity. It shouldn't matter what world their from. Besides, these jackboots trampled my beautiful Gallia to the ground!" she finished, her face flush with anger.

"I'd rather not fight," stated Eila "But what other choice do we have. The General offered us our best chance of getting home. So I say we should take the chance."

"I'm with Eila" stated Sanya, blushing as she glanced into her Suomos friend's startled eyes.

"I don't think there's any of us that enjoy fighting." spoke Hartmann, "But like Eila said, we don't have a choice."

"Minna hasn't let us down yet." chimed Lucchini.

Sakamoto turned to her protege, who she had noticed had yet to voice her opinion. "What are your thoughts Miyafuji?"

Miyafuji lowered her head and did not respond, prompting Lynn to place a reasuring hand on her friend's shoulder. When Miyafuji finally spoke, her voice was quivering.

"I'm scared." she said "These are other people we'd be fighting. I don't know if I want to do that. If I even could do that. But I've always wanted to protect people...I just...If I dont do something to stop it they'll kill each other..."

"Stay strong, Miyafuji" reasured Sakamoto.

"That's right, you'll figure it out." agreed Barkhorn.

**The War Department – Washington DC**

"General Marshall, may I present you Vice Air Marshall Adolphine Galland, supreme commander of the Witches." stated Minna proudly. "Accompanying her is Group Captain Rudel, and Wing Commander Gundula Rall."

"Pleasure to meet all of you I'm sure. What can I do for you Vice Air Marshall?

"We have agreed to help your forces retake Europe." replied Galland carefully.

"Splendid!"

"On one condition..." continued Galland carefully.

The smile on Marshall's face faded slightly. "And what might those be?"

"My witches will assist as necessary with your operations but will maintain at all times full autonomy, remaining under my sole command."  
Marshall leaned back in his chair and thought quietly for a moment.

"And what would be the benefit of me saying yes?"  
"Step outside and we'll show you."

**(Ten Minutes Later)**

'That went well' stated Rudel as the witches began their drive back to the farm.

'You did put on quite the show." stated Rall sarcastically. "That poor MP was sweating like he was stranded in the desert."

"As if you'd know about being 'stranded' in the freaking desert." retorted Rudel, sticking out her tongue.

Yeager watched the two Karlslanders through the rear view mirror and couldnt help but feel surprised at how laid back the witches all seemed to be. Even though he had seen this behavior many times before, he never expected the witches to be able to hide the ever mounting concern of getting back to their world so well.

"You all seem pretty cozy, given your...unique...situation." Yeager whispered delicately to Galland who was sitting next to him in the front passenger's seat.

Galland reached up and brushed several stray strands of her glossy black hair back behind her ears and shrugged. "Well, for the time being there does not seem to be much we can do about our situation. We can only hope that the people General Marshall put Ursula and Porsche in touch with will be able to work out how we were brought here."

Yeager didn't know how to reply so he didn't and the two rode the rest of the way back to the Whittaker's farm in silence.

**Allied Staging Ground, England**

"Do you know why I called you both in here?" asked Leigh-Mallory tiredly.

Arthur Bishop nodded silently, casting a spiteful glare to the Free French pilot standing to his right.

"We are here," stated the Frenchman haughtily "because one of your pilot's would not recognize his better."

"Now see here!" protested Bishop angrily. "I won't be talked down to by some German sympathizer! Or has someone forgotten the little stunt they pulled on us at Dunkirk?!"

Now it was Pierre Clostermann's turn to glare. "You English..." Perrine paused, struggling for an insult "half-wit mongrel runt!" he finished.

Mallory arched an incredulous brow. 'That's seriously the best you could do?' he thought much to his disappointment. Then quickly remembering himself stated with annoyance, "That's enough! Both of you! We have enough trouble as it is without our ace pilots causing unneeded tensions right before operations! begin"

The two pilots snapped back into attention.

"I'm confining you both to quarters until operations begin. Maybe you both can use that time to do some growing up. Your both dismissed."

The two pilots left Mallory's office still fuming even as Eisenhower entered past them. When neither saluted, Eisenhower stopped and glanced over his shoulder. He wanted to say something, but having just come from yet another unpleasant 'peace conference' with DeGaulle, he wasn't in the mood.

"Mallory, I just got off the line with Washington. Marshall said he's sending us a task force that, in his words, would be of 'great benefit' to our planning of Overlord."

"Well I can tell you what Monty will think of it." replied Mallory.

"He'll say it stinks to high heaven." smiled Eisenhower wryly.

"Did General Marshall say who?"

"Well that's where he lost me. He told me that its a special independent air squadron is on their way to rendezvous with us."

"What the devil is that supposed to mean?" Mallory asked, his confusion evident. "Who are they?!"

"No idea. It's not like the old man to be so cloak and dagger." frowned Eisenhower with mild concern. "The only thing we can do is wait and see if this unit actually shows up. But I am not changing the entire operation at the last minute. We'll just sideline them and use them if we need to."

"Understood. Shall I keep a lid on this until something happens?" asked Mallory tactfully.

"I think that would be best."

**The Aircraft Carrier Akagi, Somewhere in the Pacific**

Sakai watched solemnly as the smoke of two incense sticks rose into the air. Sakai and his squadron had just returned from a combat operation. One that ended with the loss of one of his wingmen. Putting his hands together he clapped twice and stood just as his commanding officer entered Sakai's quarters with a young pilot in toe.

"Sakai, I would like to introduce you to your replacement wingman."

The young recruit stepped forward and bowed sharply, his desire to impress Sakai clear as day.

"Kaneyoshi Muto, reporting for duty sir!" he shouted eagerly.

"Saburo Sakai" replied the ace with a slight bow before turning to his commander. "He's just a boy."

"Fresh out of training." nodded the commander. "But he is bold and spirited. He will make a indispensable addition to your team."

Sakai glanced at the young man incredulously but as to not bring down insult upon either of them replied "I completely agree, sir"

"See to it that you get him broken in, he's your responsibility now Sakai."

"By your command." bowed the one-eyed ace, hiding a grimace.

Satisfied, the commander left the two pilots alone with only the hum of the aircraft carrier's engines echoing through the ship.

"Your on top" Sakai stated curtly, pointing to the now unoccupied bunk.

Walking over to the bunks, Kaneyoshi slung his bag onto the upper bunk and turned to look at Sakai. "I look forward to flying with you."

Sakai walked silently over to the doorway and looked back. "We'll see."

**May 31, 1944 – USAAF Transport Plane, Atlantic**

Despite being a large aircraft, the transport plane tasked with bringing the witches to England was crowded between the twelve of them and the members of the 101st Airborne Division. Marshall had made it clear that they were not to engage in unnecessary conversation with their flying companions and were expected to mind themselves at all times. This was not only from a desire to show off the army's crowning achievement in military fighting power, but to prevent any unnecessary incidents from occurring. Needless to say Minna and the other witches found the silent stares awkward at best. On the far side of the aircraft several of the men were whispering. As for the witches, the only one seemingly alright with the silence was Sakamoto who sat with her sheathed katana in hand resting the sword against her shoulder as she quietly meditated. Minna pulled out her pocket watch and glanced at the time.

'Five more hours to go.' Minna sighed inwardly and cast another sideways glance at two Airborne soldiers who were watching her silently.

"Can I help you?" she asked pleasantly, causing a number of heads to turn. The men said nothing and turned away.

"Don't mind them." whispered Yeager, having noticed a slight frown play momentarily across Minna's face. "If they have orders those boys ain't gonna talk unless their CO allows otherwise." Nodding towards a young man holding his helmet in one hand and a knife in the other.

"What's he doing?" asked Minna curiously. Yeager watched for a moment then replied quietly, "He's scraping his rank off his helmet. The Germans always target the officers first."

A look of realization hit Minna and she nodded slowly, 'That make's sense...'

"You've never heard of that?" asked Yeager.

"No. As long as I've been a witch we've always been fighting the Neuroi..."

"You've mentioned these Neuroi before. What are they like?"

Minna turned and looked into Yeager's eyes. "The Neuroi are our sworn enemy.

Minna proceeded to tell Yeager everything she could. About the initial invasion, the destruction of Karlsland, the creation of the Striker, everything she could. For his part, Yeager never once looked incredulous he just sat next to her listening in silence until her story came to an end.

"...so here we are."

Yeager thought for a moment, then stated "You're war bears so many similarities to ours it gives me the creeps."

"I could say the same for yours."

"Captain!" came a man's voice. Minna glanced down the plane towards the cockpit to see the 101st Captain speaking to the pilot. After a moment the man turned away and addressed the cabin.

"There's a bad storm coming so we're going to have to go around it. Pilot says we should have enough fuel but it's going to be tight."

"Looks like we should get some sleep while we can." remarked Minna quietly.  
"Agreed. I have a feeling it will be in short supply once we arrive in England." agreed Yeager.

**(2 Hours Later)**

A violent jolt and shouting bolted Minna wide awake. The aircraft was shaking like crazy and Minna quickly realized by the panic evident within the plane that this wasn't just turbulence. Before she could react, Galland staggered her way up the plane to the front.

"What's going on?!" she shouted at the pilot.

"Who the hell are you?" asked the man back at her.

"Vice Air Marshall Adolphine Galland, now answer the question!"

"German warships, 10 o'clock."

"Look out!" cried the Co-pilot

Seconds later a burst of Flak exploded in front of the plane, shards of debris pierced through the canopy and into the startled co-pilot, killing him instantly. Galland would have been hit as well had one of the 101st not launched himself from his seat and tackled the Karlsland witch to the ground.

"You alright ma'am?" asked the paratrooper, picking himself back up.

"I'm fine thanks." She turned back to the pilot "Can't we evade?"

"Damnit! What do you think I've been doing. We've already lost one engine and now my co-pilot. This thing ain't a Mustang, lady its more like a flying brick."

"What if we bought you time to escape. Could you do it?"

The pilot looked incredulous. "Ma'am, unless you could miraculously make those ships stop firing at us, this is pretty much it." he stated sarcastically.

"Alright then." Galland turned around and headed back past the whispering airborne. "Sanya, Barkhorn, and Miyafuji, You're up!"

The three witches stood up and grabbed their Strikers from where they were propped with the Airborne's supplies at the back of the craft. Several of the troopers gasped or cried obsceneties as a glowing light filled the aircraft as the witches donned their strikers. Once armed the three stood in the narrow walkway supported upright by the other witches.

"OPEN THE HATCH!" cried Galland down the aircraft to the pilot.

"Are you out of your mind?!" shot the pilot back. "We'll loose all our supplies!"

"Its the supplies or your lives!" shot Galland in the manner of a true officer. "Now do it!"

"Do what she says." ordered the Airborne's captain.

"Alright, whatever you say." stated the pilot as he flipped the switch. A strong roaring wind blew into the aircraft as the back hatch opened and the supplies closest to the hatch slid down then out of the descending ramp. The moment it was open, Barkhorn, Sanya, and Miyafuji reved up their magic engines.

"Captain Gertrude Barkhorn, taking off!" shouted the Karsland witch as she shot out of the aircraft and into the sky followed closely behind by Miyafuji and Sanya.

"Miyafuji, protect Sanya as she hits the destroyers. I'll aim for the gunners!"

"Roger!" replied the two witches.

"Let's go!"

The three dove towards the two German Destroyers. As they approached Sanya fired off a barrage of rockets at the waterline of each of the warships. If they were anywhere near the same designs as Karlsland warships, then that meant the fuel and munitions should be in roughly the same place.

As the rockets impacted the side of the ship several of the flak guns turned to fire at their unknown attackers. As Barkhorn closed in to take out the crew one of the guns managed to get off a shot at Sanya. Diving into position Miyafuji stretched out her hands to raise her shield...

**(Meanwhile off Wake Island...)**

"Kaneyoshi, stay in formation!" ordered Sakai as the two pilots dodged both AA gun fire from the American Warships and a group of F4F Hellcats.

Sakai banked hard to the right and made another run at the American carrier sending a volley of bullets into one of the carrier's AA guns causing it to explode. Glancing around him Sakai then noticed that Kaneyoshi was no longer behind him.

"I can't shake him!" came the young pilots voice over the radio.

'Damnit' cursed Sakai and circled around until he saw his supposed wingman being pursued by two of the Hellcats. Going full throttle Sakai shot towards his comrade opening fire on the trailing Hellcat sending it crashing into the sea.

"Kaneyoshi! It's Sakai! I can't get a shot on the second plane with you in the way! Bank right!"

Suddenly Kaneyoshi's plane banked hard to the left right as Sakai pulled the trigger. Kaneyoshi realize his mistake, but by then it was too late as the twin barrels of an AA gun came squarely into view and opened fire...


End file.
